


To Be Known

by Space_Interrobang



Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Blood Drinking, Other, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, Smut, Vampire Bites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:01:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27779527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_Interrobang/pseuds/Space_Interrobang
Summary: Glimpses into some of the moments where sparks are kindled and the climax it leads to.Ambiguous they/them mc so you can imagine your own♡.
Relationships: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Character(s), Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s), Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Male Character(s), Astarion/Charname (Baldur's Gate)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 144





	1. Reaching

**Author's Note:**

> This one goes out to all my insecure bitches who get overwhelmed when someone comes on to them as hard as Astarion does but crave intimacy like water. It is possible for you to accept and let go of all that...tension. Collective ecstasy and all that, you know the rest. Hope you enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did my best to change up the game dialogue enough so it wasn't a straight copy and to explore some of the things they mention in-game a bit deeper, but also keep the same feel/tone. Thanks for reading♡.

"Good morning..."

The words were slow on their tongue. Wary and woozy, even after their morning meal. It had given them too much time to think. To reflect on their midnight revelation. Uncertainty spun their thoughts into a fine, fragile thread. Attempting to weave it into a fortified fabric was counterproductive without guidance. Without answers. Stabbing blindly in the dark only served to tangle, and there was enough on their mind already without this distracting them.

Approaching Astarion while everyone else was busy about their morning routine seemed logical enough. He sat just outside his tent, legs crossed, honing the edge of his dagger on a strip of leather. The sun glazed his skin, but something else was different. It radiated off his normally pallid complexion, rather than absorb it like a shadow; matte and ashen. It gave his smile an extra perk as they said their greetings and sat down in front of him.

"Good morning," Astarion replied easily. His blade ceased moving, putting his task to the ground as he turned his attention to his companion. His eyes searched their expression, bright red casted down across his nose. "How do you feel?"

"Still a little light-headed, but it'll pass. I came to talk about last night..."

His gaze flickered to the bandage at their neck, then waved his hand flippantly. "I've already apologized. What more do you want?" Fingers came up and scratched behind his ear, lips pulling back over sharp fangs. "Unless...you're looking for another nibble?"

The hopeful jape made the companion puff out a quiet laugh. Astarion was always so careful to make it so no one was ever quite certain if he was serious or not. To keep his motivations shrouded. The effect ended up being a lot of light-hearted quips and smiles at the ends of serious topics. It was a lot of his lilting tone tumbling and jumping through hoops like a circus. It would be more amusing if it didn't look so exhausting.

"Not just yet. I wanted to get some clarification since I don't know much about the details of being a vampire. I mean, surely you can't be full after that. How are we to feed you in future?"

"How very pragmatic. I'm almost proud. You're right, of course. I had to find a deer last night, but you're the one who enabled me to hunt so well. Just be glad I'm not a true vampire. A bite from them and you might wake up as a vampire spawn, like my good self. All of a vampire's hunger, but few of their powers."

"Is that how you're in the sun right now?"

"Oh no, I should be cinders in this light." His face relaxed around the eyes; something grim lurking under the melodic lifts and twists in his voice. "I hadn't seen the sun for two hundred years before we crashed here. Someone--or something--wants me alive. They've changed the rules. Some of the rules, at least. Running water still burns like acid, and I don't know if I need an invitation to enter a house. As for my other quirks--well, we can figure those out in time."

The companion's brows knotted slightly, thinking. In the silence they noticed the stains under his eyes were less pronounced. Idly they wondered exactly how invigorated he felt, and how much of it was due to their blood.

"If any of that changes," they said. "Let me know. We can try and help. Or if you need anything else, just ask. We're in this fight together now."

"Oh, you're such a sweetheart," Astarion cast down. The endearment was spoiled with derogatory intention and a suppressed sneer, but they ignored it as he pushed forward. "I'm just glad you're being sensible about these...revelations. I was worried people might show up with torches and pitchforks. Although there's still time."

There was real fear under that statement. Needling for a reaction.

Their expression softened, head tilted. "As underhanded as some might think it, I believe you did right by hiding at first. I mean, it worked."

"I'm not certain you fully grasp my nature."

"I mean I have a better sense of you," they replied, ignoring his attempt at being snide. "No pre-conceived assumptions to falsely judge you. You're Astarion, not a monster. And this," they gestured to their neck. "Is an easy gift to give in moderation. So long as you ask next time instead of creeping up on me in the middle of the night."

He grinned just a bit too wide. "I promise. No more midnight surprises. You have my word."

"I trust you in that..." Their hand came up to cover the bandage, fingers rubbing small circles to ease a bit of soreness. Their gaze flickered away as a different question came, only brave enough to see his reaction. "What's it like?"

Astarion looked confused. Or perhaps caught off-guard. Or affronted. It was hard to read his expressions sometimes. They decided to clarify anyway.

"The drinking. Last night I almost could've sworn I felt my blood flowing through us both. Then I went sort of numb. It was...odd." They swallowed down other words they could've used to describe their thoughts on the act. Shameful words they buried deep in their chest. "But then you look stronger today. Healthier. It can't be just like eating, can it? And does what creature you drink from effect how much stronger you feel? Could you get what you had last night from, say, a boar? Or will you only truly be at your best full of humanoid blood? Then again it could be about diet rather than species, but-"

"My my," Astarion interrupted with a chuckle. "Quite the curious little thing," his tone dropped. Flat. "Aren't you?"

"I'm sorry," they said and lowered their hand back to their lap. "I'm being an imposition and overthinking it, aren't I?"

A smug smirk snapped away his displeasure, and he leaned forward slightly to create the illusion of familiarity. "On the contrary, my dear. I'm flattered I should be the topic filling that pretty head of yours. It's only right, after all. With this nasty tadpole business, you need a beautiful distraction to stay sane." The elf fixed a few locks of hair out of his eyes as he leaned back. "And as a matter of fact, species does matter. As does diet. Too many drinks will get a vampire just as drunk as their victim."

"Huh...fascinating."

An emotion shimmered off a fleck of sun in his irises, but it was too quick to catch. "As for future feedings, well, no innocents. You have my word." He touched his palm to his chest to show his sincerity. "Only villains that we need to kill anyway. After all, you know what I am now. I can fight with all my weapons." Astarion almost snarled as he showed the points of his fangs in a balanced mixture of threatening and jovial as he emphasized, "teeth included." There was a macabre kind of glee in his eyes at the prospect. "And if I happen to drain the occasional bandit during a fight, what's the harm? They're just as dead."

"That sounds ideal," they sighed. "I'm glad we could come to an amicable agreement so easily."

"As am I. I'm starting to feel a little peckish already."

The companion scoffed good-naturedly. "If your hunger is this insatiable, we'll need to start picking more fights."

"No one likes a tease, darling."

"Somehow I have a hard time imagining you enjoying anything to the contrary."

One of his eyebrows ticked up. "You've imagined me enjoying a lot of things, have you?"

They gave a withered look. "You're only proving my point."

Astarion barked out a laugh, face lighting up with realization. "So I am!" And yet somehow he still managed to make that sound condescending. It was a gift. A confusing, irritating gift.

They had pried enough for one day. With clarity came a steadiness. Matters of his nature were as settled as they could be, and they had more pressing things to abide by than how one person ate; even if certain thoughts did continue to nag at the back of their mind. Astarion was very guarded, but pushing would only make him bristle further. Only time would tell if he would trust them with a better view behind the walls. Time, and maybe a little alcohol.


	2. An Understanding

"Well hello. Welcome to my humble party."

Astarion was more energetic than usual, though they hadn't seen him use it really. It all coiled in his shoulders and tightened the corners of his mouth as he grinned. Tieflings drank and stumbled around the festivities. A small creek babbled in the background, drowning out most of the chatter around the two companions.

He gestured to a bottle in his hand. "What's your poison? Red? White?"

"I'll try a bit of whatever it is you've got."

"Red it is." Astarion swiped a nearby tankard and poured, the edges of his lips slowly bending downward as he contemplated. "You know, I never pictured myself as a hero. Never thought I'd be the one they toast for saving so many lives. And now that I'm here..." He handed over the cup. "I hate it. This is awful."

"Saving lives is awful?" they smirked, unconvinced.

"We killed some goblins to save some tieflings. The tally of lives didn't change much. But what do I get for all my hard work? A pat on the head, and vinegar for wine." Despite his whinging, he tipped the bottle to his lips and drank.

The answer left a bitter flavor in the back of their mind. They copied his action to wash it down. The wine was dry, heavy, and biting. It was impossible to hide how their face twisted up, a shiver skittering down their spine.

"See what I mean? Awful. How are we supposed to have any fun with this making us nauseous?"

"It certainly isn't like the parties you're used to, I'm sure."

"What makes you think I attended parties at all beforehand?"

They shrugged. "Isn't it some kind of unspoken law that rich people invite other rich people to parties for scheming, bribery and machinations?"

An eyebrow raised as he straightened his posture, tone lower than expected. "Is that what you think of me?" An honest question. No hidden arrogance or jape. His gaze searched, seeking. Anticipating.

The extra weight made them hesitate, but not enough to reconsider their stance. "You're a magistrate. Someone in power. People like that never want to change a world that suits them so well, and they surround themselves with like-minded people so they never have to question their reality. They don't see the value in individual lives up in their towers. We're all just...tallies."

"That's oddly cynical of you. Aren't you the one always preaching about 'getting along'," he sneered. "And hope?"

"Perhaps it does seem uncharacteristic of me," they agreed grimly and glanced at the remaining wine in their cup. "Perhaps I put on a better show than I thought."

Astarion set the bottle down on a nearby crate and pouted. "Oh don't be so sour. You'll spoil all the fun."

"You didn't sound like you were having fun," they countered.

"Not yet, but, well..." He shifted his weight so he was closer, a smirk suggesting something salacious. "We could always make our own entertainment, darling. Get a little closer, so to speak."

Their heart picked up speed, but a laugh erupted from them before they could think. "You're propositioning me? After that? You really...you're very..." For some reason the words wouldn't come, so they shook their head and tried again. "I don't understand you sometimes."

"I'm an enigma?" he smiled with a twist of his hand. "Wrapped in wonder?"

"Nothing so dramatic," the companion answered, amused. "I think I'd say alluring. Fascinating."

Astarion's smile simmered into something darker, voice low. "I think I can work with that."

"Please don't-" Their words caught in their throat. Expression fragile; pained by past memories. They set their cup down with a bit more force than necessary, fingers lingering on the rim as they looked down. "Please don't toy with me, Astarion. I'm not an imbecile. I know you're hiding things from me. I know you've lied to me. You're not an intimate person, and I've done my best to respect your boundaries. I understand...just...don't pretend you can give me something I know you can't. That you won't."

Cool fingers came under their chin and urged them to meet his gaze, hand slipping away from the cup.

"Who told you I won't?"

It was so rich--so full of proclamation--they were just about determined he was flattering them. His eyes looked almost warm, glinting in the dim firelight. Then his mouth twisted in disappointment. "Self-pity doesn't suite you at all, my dear."

The backs of his fingers ghosted down the length of their neck, carnal eyes following them until he paused over their chest. His voice was quiet; dripping temptation sweeter than sin.

"I can feel your heart quickened. Quivering with excitement. Why would you deny yourself what you know you crave? What you _hunger_ for? This doesn't have to be complicated. Just you, me, and our...collective ecstacy. A night of passion."

Their fingers twitched, but refrained from reaching out. He had silk for a tongue and charm for a mask. It lulled their thoughts to images of lips interlocking while bodies meshed and moved against one another. Friction and flesh and feverish sweat cooling against the night air. Soft noises punctuated by rapturous faces. Hands cloying, clawing for purchase. To be felt, body and soul. Explored and savored. Appreciated and desired. Not as a leader or a stout fighter, but as their true, whole and bare self; clear and uncluttered by falsities. A trust so complete and reciprocated they could already feel their chest tighten. A culmitive high so powerful that for a few blissful hours, their mind is finally free and at peace.

To be known.

A few moments passed, and his touch slid away. With it gone, their mind cleared a bit. Enough to speak, anyway, though it came out far more breathless than they were proud of.

"Part of me wants to."

Astarion froze for a heartbeat, a spark in his gaze; cautiously optimistic. "Only a part? My dear, I'm weak in the knees already."

The jab hurt, but was well deserved. "Gods know I desire nothing more, believe me."

"But?"

"But," they confirmed. "The other part is afraid."

With a roll of his shoulders, Astarion cast off his intense gaze and took on a tone more commiserate with sulking. "Far be it from me to force you into something you're not ready for."

"You misunderstand," they continued. "I'm afraid of how much I want it. This beastial, burning desire inside me...I don't know how to control it."

Understanding relaxed his features. With soft voice caressing their ears, he replied, "there's no need." An assurance. A vindication.

A promise.

"Besides, what a delicious thought--being the reason you lose control. How... _intoxicating_." Astarion turned long enough to pour more wine in their cup. When he gave it to them, his hand lingered. Fingers carefully traced over ridges and knuckles, expression mired in mischief. "But not quite yet, love. Let's wait until things quieten down a bit. Once the others are asleep, we'll find each other."

Their gaze rushed to the feeling, heart jumping into their throat. They couldn't pull away. A heady blend of excitement and curiosity made them watch with anticipation.

"All right," they found themselves agreeing. "I'll...see you later, then."

"Indeed you will, my love," he crooned. "Indeed you will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was mostly because I haven't seen anyone explore the fact he used to be a magistrate. That would create a bit of tension/conflict in a common-born mc, I should think. It'd be a very interesting dynamic, especially since he understands the plight of those without power better now.


	3. In The Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanna apologize, it's been so very long since I've written smut. Also I wrote all this before the patch 3 update hope you enjoy♡.

The night was crisp; taught like the skin of an apple. Any quick movement felt like it would snap the air and disfigure the fragile state of affairs. The moon hung a sliver in the sky, and they were following the pale outline of a particular elf away from the camp. He glanced over his shoulder every few seconds, drawing them further into the blackness.

Once the pair were far enough away normal speech wouldn't be heard, they stopped. Astarion stood in a break in the canopy under moonlight. It softened his figure and haloed his hair, shining like a beacon among the hungry shadows. They edged closer, aware they should be more apprehensive about following a vampire spawn into the middle of nowhere alone. And yet, they hadn't been less worried since before being abducted. Despite all traditional sense, they trusted Astarion.

Shows what good tradition does for you.

"At last," he invited and held out a hand, palm up. "I've been waiting for this."

The companion rested their hand in his, fingertips grazing icy flesh. They were drawn into the light with him. Then his voice dipped lower, warmer; almost sentimental.

"Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you."

A confession, or just pretty words to lull them to relax. They didn't much care to discern which. Not with his other hand coming to their hip, and staring at them with unbridled lust.

"Waiting...to have you."

Alcohol warmed their belly and their face. It made their movements more fluid, if compromising grace to do it. Mostly, it washed away all the second thoughts that normally would've made them clumsy. There was a direct path from their thoughts to their mouth and movements.

Upon hearing his sweet seductions, they raised their free hand to his face. The pads of their middle and ring fingers came delicately to his temple, watching as they traced the slopes and plains down to his chin. Then the backs of their fingers stroked across his cheek before sliding up behind his ear to cup his jaw. Admiring his beauty. There was the faintest of scars between his eyebrows. Two small spots were on his left cheek they hadn't been able to properly see before as well, and a few flecks of grey in his irises among the glimmering red.

It was the first time he'd allowed them to touch him. The few times they had before, he had initiated and ended it. But in those gossamer moments, something was different. They were enraptured as emotions dashed across his face. They chased each other with such speed, his partner caught nothing but the obvious disquiet.

"Are you all right?" they mumbled.

Astarion blinked. "Hm? Oh, uh, I was...leagues away." In another blink, he replaced the mirth pulling his lips up. "I was imagining all the myriad of ways I could take you. There's the classic you under me scenario, but I could just as easily push you against the nearest tree. Much more fun, but terrible on your back. But if that doesn't appeal to you we could always put you on your knees. Really, the possibilities are endless."

"You're a terrible liar," they smiled softly. After so long in silent understanding, they finally admitted to biting their tongue. To feigning ignorance and naivety. He had never actually controlled how much he revealed; they had. Astarion wasn't as talented at acting out his façade as he liked to think, and now he knew his partner's insightfulness stretched farther than he might be willing to bear. "But that's okay. Everyone's entitled to their own secrets."

Astarion opened his mouth to dismiss the entire idea, but a laugh bubbled up from his partner's chest before he could say anything. They snorted embarrassingly in the back of their nose, and they tried to hold it in as they spoke.

"I just remembered a joke I thought of earlier. Do you want to hear it?"

Astarion tilted his head slightly, curiosity keeping him silent for now.

"What do call a pale, shining beauty victoriously snatched from the inky blackness of night?"

His eyebrows pulled together.

"Simple," they answered, enunciating the next syllables to be certain he heard the wordplay. "It's a star we won."

Disappointment. Revulsion. Astarion's face twisted as he scoffed. "Ugh, I should leave you to fend for yourself after that. Are you always so insufferable when you've been drinking?"

They laughed, throwing their head back before returning to find his disgust dissipated; bareness forgotten. His own tactic was used against him, and he wondered if he had miscalculated. Perhaps they were far more deliberate--and controlled--than he assumed. Perhaps, much more conniving. A glimpse of a kindred spirit. The prospect was...well...

He considered them a moment as their grin simmered into a gentle curve, fingers flexing on their hip. The most subtle of simpers. Then he pulled them closer. Icy lips cushioned ones tinged with wine. It was careful. Brief.

They blinked slowly as they moved with Astarion when he pulled back, reluctant to give up the small connection. They leaned into the motion--let it carry them to kiss again. A short hum vibrated against his mouth as they opened to each other, and they sucked in air through their nose as both his hands held them firmly to his chest. Fingers catching, curling into fabric to grasp at the flesh underneath. Despite this, it wasn't long before the elf drew back.

"Come now," he scolded. "You're as tense as my bow string. You can do better than that, surely."

Once it was pointed out, they released a breath, and their shoulders lowered. Heat crept up their neck as they cast their gaze down. "Sorry. It's...I don't want to do anything that may upset you."

"Upset me?" he chortled, eyes alight with glee.

"You've had more than your fill of those that only dominate and take. I don't want to-" No. They wouldn't ruin this night by invoking his name. "Overstep by bounds."

"My dearest love," he dripped with disdain. "I'm touched, really, but I'm here to relax and have a little fun. That's what you want, isn't it? To lose yourself in me?"

Their gaze drifted back to his, and they nodded.

"I thought so. Now kiss me properly."

There was a tremor in their chest; an unevenness that had them slipping. A desperation. It writhed, naked in their eyes and their actions as they tasted from his lips. As they tangled their grip in the curls of his hair and scratched his scalp. As their other hand slid beneath layers of hems to feel the cool skin of Astarion's side. As they did all in their power to connect.

It was rough at first. It seemed to be all he knew, mouth violent and crashing into theirs like a tidal wave against the soft shores of a beach. He towered over them, poured into them, desire bleeding out like wine on cloth. He grabbed their sides, fingers curling around the fabric of their outfit as if he needed to tear it from them; a soft and wretched plea that seemed to beg, “closer, more, now."

Then they touched his face, and he slowed. Concentrations shifted to opening layers of buckles and buttons. When they parted, it was only long enough for Astarion to toss his outer layer aside and sink breathlessly to the ground with his partner. The plain tunic underneath swayed against his figure as he knelt between their legs. They pulled apart the last fastenings on their own shirt and let it lay open, keeping it on their arms to retain some kind of barrier between their back and the icy dirt.

Astarion admired their bared chest, cast in moonlight, a winsome smirk painted on his lips. Wanting. Hungering. Triumphant.

His hands went to the laces on their trousers, tugging the fabric to fall open. Foreboding grew stealthily at the edges of their thoughts. Vague, hard to explain worries they wanted to let go of. They couldn't allow themselves to think; only feel.

With a small tug of his tunic for encouragement, Astarion stalked over their body. Fingers returned to tangle in pale curls, and they tilted their head, directing his mouth to their neck.

His cool breath was tantalizing against their warm flesh, and the new tension in his body was impossible to miss; rigid under their hands. It seeped into them like a thick fog, straining shallow breaths. It was hard to distinguish between the lines of desire and pain and fury.

There was a moment where nothing happened. His partner stared up between the gaps of leaves and branches, suspended under the stars.

Then, Astarion used the hand not holding himself up to go between their legs. A delicate finger stroked down, and their breath caught as it made small circles. When it slid inside them a quiet whine lifted to the sky. He created a steady pace, and their free hand had fingernails indenting the skin of his waist, slipped under the tunic that tickled, tantalized their chest where their heart now raged. A second finger soon followed along with another cry. Arousal spread outward with every passing second; rising deep in their gut.

A tenderness filled Astarion's lips as his kisses became gentler--reverent as they pathed a course along the side of their throat. Each press reveled in; anticipation annealed.

Shocks spread down his partner's side, buzzing through their nerves. It was like lightning, being touched. Their life had not been one often visited by tender affection; every sensation doubled. Chills swept their body, and moans cradled his ears. They writhed and arched into him, pitch rising as their canines did; vocabulary reduced to one vowel.

His tongue reached out to their pulse. His breath quivered. A noise reverberated from deep within his soul and rumbled his chest.

It was then--no sooner nor later--that he struck. They cried out, gasping as Astarion's teeth pierced their neck; two shards of quick, throbbing pain. Their fingers flexed in his hair, holding him steadfast as he began to drink. The encouragement worked its purpose as the feeling from the first night he fed from them returned. The shared pulses. The slowed heartbeats. The calm.

Astarion's fingers eased to a stop before removing themselves to claw under them and grapple their back, pulling them closer.

They could feel their blood coat his throat and rush through his body. They shuddered as the warmth eased his countenance. As his thoughts floated and relaxed. And then, as his hips lowered, pressing their bodies together like water in the bath; completely and without gaps.

The lines blurred between 'both'; between plurals. They felt as one. One sound. One heartbeat.

A memory inflicted a small twinge. It was the memory of their shame; the thoughts that first night Astarion fed from their neck. Those moments when willpower drained from them. All they had to do was keep silent, and it would all drift away. Their worries, their fears, their pain...all gone.

It had been instinct, to interrupt Astarion and make him stop. Now, as he did it again, they felt their secret shame return. The way a tiny part of them wanted to hold on to the content numbness brought. They didn't want to die. Not really. How they fought for a cure proved that. But in a lifetime of trauma and tragedy, they coveted peace just as they knew Astarion coveted his complex freedom. Respite was few and far between...but not together. Not held in such cherished wonder. Together, the universe wasn't so painful.

Teeth retracted. Astarion panted. Blood pooled to the surface of the wound he caused. His partner brought his head up to see him.

Astarion's eyes were like a hailstorm up close. There was enough ice and torment in there to freeze the world. And they'd help him do it. The world deserved it for what it did to him. To all of them.

They brushed their lips across his, warming him from their smoldering heart. Then another; muted kisses that quickly delved deeper, melting miserable memories. Tongues that sought to tease.

There was a faint metallic tinge to the taste. It wouldn't be the first time blood was in their mouth, but it was certainly the first time for it to be done on purpose. They couldn't even decide if they minded or not because of the pressure distracting them. The hardness hidden behind cloth as Astarion canted his hips forward. His moan vibrated against their lips, and the air changed instantly.

The atmosphere became rich and heavy with decadent desire. Like the wine they sipped all night, it scattered their thoughts. With crowding banished, one thing remained, followed by a dozen smaller subsets of that one. The feeling, the friction...the rapture.

An urgency filled his actions as he pressed just that much harder, that much longer, before pulling away. They stroked their hand through his hair. They raised a leg to his waist.

"Please," they begged. A whisper, pushed from heaving chest.

A smile was tucked into the corners of his mouth. Astarion held a new kind of calm confidence. An unburdened stare, pupils wide and dark, and gods they could lose themselves chasing that expression from him again and again.

He bent down. Then his voice came softly to their ears, like a campfire's heat on a chilly night.

"You poor thing," he said with either sorrow or relish, lips brushing the shell of their ear. "So eager to know me." A kiss just under their jaw.

Their hand slipped down to his shoulder. "Please Astarion," they repeated.

They felt him smile into their neck, an exhale trembling with excitement. Then he sat up, inviting a breeze to give them chills. He grabbed his tunic by the back of the collar, and pulled it over his head. The material was tossed aside, revealing his smooth, pale skin. There were remarkably little scars; probably because of healing magic. His shoulders tapered to slim hips, and they found themselves staring when he reached to undo the laces of his trousers.

Soon the last barrier was pushed around his thighs, and soon again before he was pushing inside of them. His jaw clenched, and his breath came in stuttering stops until he sat fully enveloped. Lithe fingers spread over the muscles of their thighs, sliding up to their hips, and he paused. Astarion tilted his head back, mouth slightly agape. His ears twitched, listening to their heartbeat hammer. Then he allowed his head to loll to the side and back down. Red eyes ensnared their gaze, one side of his lips lifted.

They raised an arm and rolled their hips; a silent plea for movement. Astarion stared brazenly at their body as it writhed. The hardened edges and soft lines. Their tense stomach and scarred skin. The way they were laid out, open and warm. So overwhelmingly warm.

The kind of satisfaction heat brought was indescribable. He was a creature of night until days ago. A creature of cold and of dark. Blood slaked his hunger and warmed his veins, but it was only a fraction. They were the source. A creature of heat and of sun; of life free of the shadows. They were everything he had almost forgotten until recently. And he wanted more. More heat. More burning. More of them.

Astarion's fingertips grasped hard enough to bruise, pulled back, then snapped his hips forward, using their own body as leverage. The choked sound that came from them sliced his attention to their lips. The ones that formed such unmatched understanding. Lips that cursed their foes; that defended his life against hunters; that smiled across the campfire. Such unmatched lips deserved their due.

With a bit less grace than usual, Astarion draped his body over theirs once more, hands cupping and stroking greedily as he crushed his lips to theirs. He created a gentler rhythm with his hips, but the effect was the same. Muffled moans and breathless bliss invaded every sense. He couldn't decide whether he most enjoyed the sound of their pleasure, or its taste. But oh, to taste more of them. To put tongue between thighs and devour.

A whisper of blood still lingered on their neck, and Astarion felt his chest constrict--the scent beguiling to the point of distraction. A moan started to leave his throat when it strained into something more akin to a groan. His partner anchored themselves to his back. One hand quickly slipped lower until they could feel the flesh of his ass. It dug deep, drawing him closer where no space already existed. His movements made it hard to stay long, and nails scraped skin as they traveled up again. When they caught on the outer ring of his scars, their hands flattened and splayed, palms rising up to his shoulderblades.

Somewhere in their mind, the expanse of the raised skin caused curiosity, but it was banished with another punctuated thrust. Then it was their turn to break away from their kisses. Instead, their mouth journeyed the angle of his jaw to the side of his throat, avoiding the side with old scars. Their fingers returned to tug pale locks. Their legs wrapped around his waist. Their hips met his in kind.

"By the hells," Astarion either cursed or praised and lowered to his forearms. It buried his face in the crook of their neck; the part unmarked and unblemished. It added more friction as their bodies meshed and moved together. And as they kissed down to his collarbone, it focused all they felt.

Whether by supernatural, thralling bond, or physical, literal feeling, they were connected. A tether tied, and tumultuous at times, but impossible to unwind. Destiny had their lives entwined. Fate had tangled their hearts in the process. Or perhaps it was simple serendipity. Either way, they'd never known anything like it before. It was terrifying, and profound, and magnificent.

Astarion was suspicious and cynical, but not by nature. There were glimpses of something softer underneath all that bluster. Something aching but bracing--waiting for the storm after the calm. So they served him their trust without promise of reward or reciprocation. They shared their thoughts, and their bed, and their body, and hoped he would understand their sincerity one day. That he would hope, too. Hope beyond a supposed inevibility where he returns to his master. Hope that he could be well and truly freed. They wanted that with every fiber in their bones, and their best chance at accomplishing his belief in that possibility was through trust; something you can't get without giving some away first.

They would declare it a thousand times, even though he found it foolhardy. It was a bit foolish after all, but if the last few days proved anything, it was that the abnormal could favor anyone.

The fears returned to tangle their thoughts, but they were becoming clearer as they got closer. Vulnerability. They were afraid of showing their most raw, intimate and vulnerable self. The peak of pleasure was also the most out of control they were...the most personal. It was a side rarely sought, and even rarer seen. It was the fear of Astarion knowing them, and finding them wanting.

So they held him tighter. They clenched their muscles and did their best to ignore their thoughts. Feeling is all that mattered. The tethers. The connection. Not rushing after it, but to let the sensations soak them. To feel his touch upon their body; true, and earnest and real. The swell of desire.

They held him, and time stretched like delicacy caramel. Each roll of his hips met theirs, so he knew them deeper again and again. And he put a palm to the side of their head, thumb at their jaw so he could angle it up.

"That's it," Astarion soothed, sweeter still, voice coarse, commanding and calm. "Feel everything outside fade away. Let it all go, my love." A second hand brushed from ribs down over stomach where fingers could stroke and satisfy, nerves crackling like lightning.

His breath quivered, his lips kissed. "Show me," he demanded, face buried in the crook of their neck.

Astarion's rhythm waivered, then gained urgency--a sense of ardor. His thumb pressed into their throat as his hand flexed before darting to the ground and clawing at the dirt. The muscles on his back tensed. Quiet, strained grunts and low groans became the only sounds they heard, mixing with their own--collecting more strands of pleasure with every inhale.

Then the feelings flooded. Moans spilled from their lips like water through a broken levy. Their body shook with the force of its crash. Their voice pierced the veil night had cloaked the pair in, and suddenly it all rushed back. The clothes on their skin, the hard ground beneath their back, the dull throb in their neck and the weight of Astarion's body. They were lost among the rolling of the waves and of hips, and when bliss began to be too much to bear, Astarion followed.

His hips stuttered with the grunt that vibrated against their throat, and his fingers buried deeper in dirt. The last few thrusts were hard, but felt restrained somehow. And when he stilled, dread began to settle on their stomach like a stone. He was pulling back.

They tried to hold him--to catch his lips one last time--but he twisted away, avoiding their eyes. His chest heaved with labored breaths, jaw tight as satisfaction still snarled in the back of his throat. The moment was to savor, to memorize, but they could only see the tempest within him. How his mind was a thousand leagues away. Rather, a tendays walk away, in Baldur's Gate.

One moment later and they could almost think they imagined it. Rough palms grabbed their wrists, and Astarion bowed his back as he pressed them into the ground beside his partner's head. His eyes were dark and fierce; the kiss he gave fiercer. Vicious even. A hunger to be fed on his terms.

It wasn't long before they stopped to breathe, however. Astarion's nose brushed theirs, and the corner of his lips quirked up in something emulating gentle joy. Their dread dissipated, stone plucked from the depths of their belly with an honest, evocative proclamation.

"...ravishing."

A grin threatened to split their mouth as they exhaled the worry off their chest. Pride, elation, content. Their head tilted back slightly, trying to draw in more fresh air. His gaze darted, wide, to the area he bit, a small knot between his eyebrows.

With a few more silent seconds between them, Astarion released their arms and pulled away completely.

They sensed a barrier about to drop like a portcullis; severing them from their view behind the mask. A tinge of regret. Theirs or his, it wasn't certain.

One of their hands drifted up to his face, backs of shaking fingers brushing down his cheek. He caught the wandering hand before it could cascade off his jaw. They tilted their chin, offering up more of what his stare suggested still occupied his thoughts. More blood. More time.

His eyes closed as he turned his head and pressed his lips to their knuckles with relish. The touch stayed longer than was decent. Then, he gingerly unfurled their fingers. Palm to palm, their hands slipped lower, skipping off his chest, his stomach, before resting on theirs.

"Thank you," they said with hushed voice. "That was..."

The shadows exaggerated his returning smile; at once coy and arrogant. "Yes..." Astarion agreed slowly. "Quite the show."

A bittersweet chuckle rose from their chest. They drew back their hands to themselves, one carding through mussed hair. Their gaze drifted up to the sky where the stars were beginning to fade. A breeze chilled the heat of their skin, and they began to sink into the familiarity of their self, separated from another. Just their heartbeat calming inside their chest. They had gone their entire life without sharing a pulse with someone else, but that thought didn't diminish the oddly lonesome feeling that itched under their fingers at Astarion's absence.

"Well...if I'm nothing else, at least I'm entertaining."

Astarion's carefully crafted mien cracked. His smile sunk, and the knot between his eyebrows grew deeper. Over two hundred years, and this is the reflection the tadpole gives him. It was horrid.

It was warped.

With a turn, he set to righting the laces of his trousers, and drove the heavy thought of care from his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We keep some clothes on in this fantasy because we value not having dirt up our ass, unlike some cutscenes with bare-backing it in the woods👍.(seriously, not even a blanket Astarion? You're from the city; you're not that feral. Gale uses a blanket...)


	4. In The Light

They were covered and closed. Both in legs and expressions. Trousers had been replaced, top halves left exposed, leaning back on their forearms as they watched Astarion go to his feet. He wiped flecks of dirt from his palms and turned away, facing the sunrise. The sun had yet to show itself, but the horizon was lightening into a greyish blue to signal its arrival. Once he took a few paces forward to lean his shoulder on a tree, they let a bit of their disappointment show.

It was a matter of understanding. One doesn't notice the absence of something until they've had a taste. They weren't a lonely creature before, but now they'd experienced what it should feel like to be with someone, and a space opened its maw at his distance, stretching their ribcage to an aching pain. They shouldn't have expected more, but it felt strange for him to walk away so soon after they were so close. He had been the one to ask for this, after all.

Then again, he didn't seem the type to plan too far ahead. At least, not like how they are. Rightfully so. Any night could be the last as themselves, and he made it clear he spent this one with them for fun and entertainment. Perhaps their circumstances had tricked them into imagining an actual connection. He had still twisted away from some of their touches, and with his back to them they could infer why.

The expansive scarring on his back was...not pleasant. Three circles nestled within one another, lines interrupting the arcs at specific points and at varying lengths, and some kind of symbol in the very center. The longest of the lines reached from the second circle to the small of his back directly over his spine. They were too deliberate--too deep--to be anything other than an infliction from his old master. And there was no telling what other terrors and tortures he had to endure.

Questions wandered in their head; wondering at the life he's had. They were likely insignificant when weighed against his centuries of experience and exploration. What was a few odd days to an elf who endured 200 years of enslavement. But they knew one thing: Astarion didn't like speaking about his past. If they were going to take a chance at a topic, it had to count. They didn't want to incur his ire, or cause him to shut himself further away. There were so many risks in their life already. Only a few of them could be taken at a time.

The companion stretched their neck, the soreness there out of place amongst the rest of their sated and relaxed person, and fixed their face to be impassive. "I think I've changed my mind, Astarion."

"Oh?" he prompted without looking back. "Well don't keep me in suspense, darling. What about?"

"How I want you to kill me if I begin to turn."

He was already still beforehand, but the air around him also paralyzed at that, breeze fading to nothing.

"You can have my blood. I _want_ you to take it..." The peace of drifting away, cradled and comforted as everything went numb and dark. "All of it."

Astarion held his own hands, one thumb massaging the palm of the other. When he replied, his tone downcasted with the shadows, darkened by...disappointment? Anger?

"That's what you're thinking about right now?"

Their gaze meandered the scars on his back. "Not just that," they replied. "But I doubt you'd be interested in hearing about the rest."

"You're probably right," he declared, suddenly back to his teasing quality. Without seeing his face, however, it was difficult to determine how much of the change was genuine. "But you can still try."

"Then...will you join me to watch the sunrise?"

"I thought you'd be exhausted after last night."

"Not like that. I just want a bit more time in peace before we go back to...everything."

"You're the first to call my company 'peaceful'," he mocked half-heartedly.

"So will you deny me more of it?"

He scoffed. "Of course not. I'm not a monster." At that, he kicked off the tree and returned to their side. He sat with his legs crossed underneath him like he was about to meditate.

They copied his posture.

"I suppose you want to know about the markings on my back."

"I think it's natural to be curious about such large scars, yes."

Astarion took a deep breath, gaze far-off in the distance. "It's a poem," he explained bitterly. "A gift from my old master Cazador. He considered himself quite the artist, and used his slaves as a canvas. He composed--and carved--that one over the course of a night." One of his eyebrows lifted while his mouth turned down as if contemplating something. "He made a lot of revisions as he went."

"Do you know what it says?"

"No," he answered. "It's not like I can just peek in a mirror and see. It doesn't matter anyway. Whatever the bastard wrote, it won't change what he did to me."

They wanted to reach out, but smothered the urge before it could leave its cradle. This was a sensitive subject, and a touch could have the effect of a white hot poker instead. Support could come in many forms. He could hold his own well enough, but it never hurt to offer help carrying the weight to lighten the burden.

"You know that saying about just guarding what you have, and keeping your head low? It's always rubbed me the wrong way. I understand the sentiment of course, but balling all your problems together inside yourself sounds like the fastest way to having a breakdown. Or exploding. Or both. Exhaustion is a very real thing. It's why every major building has at least two guards posted."

"This feels like it's meant to have a point," Astarion said flatly. "I suggest getting to it."

"Just because it isn't bleeding, doesn't mean there's no wound," they advised and leaned back on their hands. "It's not wrong to be seen feeling something. It's courageous, to show yourself. And I would never use it against you. Burdens are always harder to bear alone. That's all."

His closed expression faltered a bit. He looked away. Then his face twisted into anger. "That's all?" he repeated, bitterness pervading their ears. "You ask in the most underhanded, cavalier manner for me to tell you all my secrets, and you expect me to just roll over on command?"

Their eyes snapped to him, wide with worry. "No no, not at all. It wasn't- I didn't mean for it to sound manipulative. I just know you'd assume it was pity if I was direct, and I want you to know I'm here for you, but the choice to reach out has to be yours."

Astarion still looked dubious, but his anger relaxed. "You're...offering yourself? Why?"

They couldn't help but laugh, though it tinged with melancholy. When they saw no humor in his face, they sombered, but kept part of their smile. "I care for you, Astarion. I want to see you happy. And I can tell you need help, but there's no point to forcing any issue. You cannot save people from themselves. I learned that lesson a long time ago. There are no saviors in shining armor. If you want something to change, you have to take action yourself. I was trying--and failing apparently--to let you know that path was open for you to take. And take of it freely."

He looked down his nose at his partner. "And why would I ever want your help?"

"No one's questioning whether you can handle yourself," they placated. "But not everything can be done alone. Twist my words to try and spurn me all you want, you know the truth of my intent."

A few seconds passed. He studied their face as his eased. "What--or who--taught you these lessons?"

"A story for a time when it would not spoil the day."

"That's such a tantalizing answer. Now I'm positively desperate to know more."

"I suppose that makes us both desperate."

One of his brows lifted in interest. Their eyes drifted back to the horizon. Color was just beginning to brighten the atmosphere. Crimson hazed the base of the sky and lined the wisps of clouds that formed. The nightlife of the forest was quieting down to make space for the birds.

Sunrise always managed to be both peaceful and anxious to them. Moments were ephemeral yet prolonged. A perfect paradox. The sun would rush to cross the sky, and the beauty of its waking moments slipped through their fingers all too easily. As it did, thoughts would languish in their mind, wondering and planning and bracing for the day ahead. They would wonder about the elf beside them, and feel that want gnaw at their chest as dozens of possible moments played out in their head. It would be fruitless to try and slow it all down, and yet they found their lips opening.

"Red is my favorite," they said. "The color of the sky at dawn, I mean. What's yours?"

Astarion softened. He mimicked their position by laying his palms out flat on the ground behind him. The hand closest to the companion found itself positioned just beside theirs, and he watched as he spread his fingers. Three of them stretched to rest on top of theirs.

Their gaze went to the touch before meeting his, looking up through his eyelashes. Astarion swallowed, a much more prominent blue beating within the veins that showed through his glass skin; rushing with their blood. Healthier. Drawn back. The tales he was too afraid to tell scrawled across his face. The physical reach that was easier to maintain than that desperate something lurking behind his irises.

"I think...I much prefer pink," he answered, voice low and quiet.

They gave a gentle smile, heart warm and warming their face. Then they leaned into his shoulder, and rested their head on top; blushing cheek to cool flesh.

His wrist turned. Fingers curled in, wrapping their entire hand within his. And he shut his eyes. Astarion's features were marred with anguish as he put his cheek to the crown of his partner's head. Words got trapped in his chest.

As a partner who is open and honest, they threaten to bring his guard crumbling down, and they almost succeed. If Astarion were more of a tragic romantic...but he's not. He's willing to sacrifice love for his pride. What's left of it, he refuses to relinquish only so he can put another's needs before his own. The whole truth was much too dangerous. To concede the truth was to acknowledge their power to change the convictions he had built high and strong to protect himself. To survive. Now, instead of fortifications, they suddenly felt like a cage, keeping him from his heart. It was so spectacularly heavy, this realization that he cared what happened. His thoughts were roiling as if sailing a tempestuous ocean, causing his emotions to crest and crash with every possibility that passed.

Then they spoke, and it was like a warm wind caressing his cheeks. An anchor to his restless mind. A port in a storm.

"I'm glad you stayed," they said. "Even for this short moment. Not everyone stays. Makes me feel less used, if nothing else."

"You really don't think much of me, do you?"

"Just trying not to get my hopes up. Gods know I never thought I'd share a bed with a city official."

"A bed," he smirked. "And so much more."

They chuckled. "You are wicked, Astarion."

The elf hummed. "Which is why you adore me so."

They grinned. "You'll not hear me deny it."

"Given the noise you made last night, I'm sure our companions already have a very clear image about that as well."

"Changed your mind about the party being fun?"

"It had its moments," he conceded with an impish smile.

The sun had finally come to greet them. Red still lined the clouds, but the sky was lightening to pink and orange. It wouldn't be long before this moment was over. Before their night together was over. It left a bitter taste in their mouth that they tried to swallow back down.

"You're not even the least bit curious about my life before, are you?"

His partner blinked slow, hoping it would help prolong the night. "Before what?"

"Cazador," Astarion answered then gestured to the scars on his neck. "This."

They gave that some thought, then shrugged. "No need to re-open old wounds. I can infer a good bit. The rest, I assume I don't want to know. Besides, I don't want to ask more of you than you're willing to give. When you're ready to tell me, you will."

"And hypothetically, if I don't?"

"Then that's okay too. You're a different person than you were 200 years ago. This is the you I enjoy company from."

"I imagine you would've tried to kill me by now if we met back then."

"Maybe. You definitely weren't a fair judge, and you couldn't care less about reading criminal law books, plus what you told me of your history leaves me with one conclusion: you dealt with property law. It's more likely we never would have even crossed paths."

"You sound so confident in your deductions."

"Well you said it was Gur," they replied. "They're nomads. Why else would they want to kill you except you told them they weren't allowed to stay? Seems obvious to me."

His smile dragged, but didn't diminish. "Mmh...tell me then, was I as villainous and uncaring as you make me out to be? Did I delight in turning my back on those I so unfairly judged? If you know so much."

They glanced down, thinking on the sourness of court, no matter the verdict. The countless lives lost to revenge or spite or in the name of a god. The blood-soaked grounds of what used to be a holy temple; rotting goblin corpses strewn in the name of their true god--survival. The celebrations they had a hard time joining; preferring to drink and watch and rest. The ambiguous nature of morals. And their voice quieted. "Since when is justice happy?"

Astarion angled his shoulder down to encourage them to leave where they leaned, then reached across with his free hand to raise their eyes to his. There was something fragile showing through the cracks in his façade. Something smoldering, ragged, and piercing.

"We do what we have to," he assured. "It doesn't do any good to be ashamed of doing it well."

A philosophy worth observing. They were alive, the tieflings were alive, and the druids were alive. They were allowed to be proud of that accomplishment. The tally of lives may not have changed, but they could console themselves with the notion that the goblins had it coming. There was always going to be someone at the end of a blade, and another holding it.

Perhaps they didn't think so differently from Astarion after all.

With that thought, their focus was pulled to their mouth where his thumb traced the shape of their lower lip. His talent for distraction was bordering on dangerous, but what else was a tryst for? "I think that's enough pillow talk. Don't you?"

A request to end the conversation of things past and gone. The gentle touch dissolved the majority of melancholy, and they smiled tiredly.

"One last thing?" Matching his tenderness, they covered his hand with theirs, holding it to their jaw. "You're so very beautiful, and I do adore you. Even if you think that's foolish given how short a time it's been. I hope this isn't the last of...this, just the two of us." They kissed his palm.

"Well, that would certainly spice up our evenings." Astarion extracted his hand, gaze studying the way the early morning sun made both of their skins glow. How it shined in their hair as he tucked some behind their ear.

It would have been so easy to fall into each other again. To get lost in shared softness and succor; another possibility to pass. But they didn't have the luxury of time. They needed information if they were going to beat this parasite--and a devil--and Halsin would be waiting to explain his knowledge.

"I was very..." Astarion paused, searching for the correct word as his eyes searched theirs. "Pleased," he crooned. "To know your company in such detail. Of that, at least, you may be certain."

There were more words to describe the night shrouded by his smile, but that was the one he had chosen to give, and they would not ask for more. He appeared genuine, calm, and content, and for that they could walk away the same; heart fluttering in their chest. "Good."

"Good," he echoed. When he separated from them completely, so did his quiet demeaner; snapping back into flair and dramatics and masks. The pitch in his voice leapt and fell, and he gestured broadly. "Now let's go, before anyone else thanks me for saving their tails."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience, and for reading. Hope you enjoyed♡.


End file.
